Fodlan's Heroes
by fairy-circle
Summary: A series of oneshots based on the main cast of Three Houses!
1. Musings of a Disgrace

His name was Ferdinand von Aegir.

He was a noble, and proud of his status. He was smart, he was handsome, he was a gentleman and the very stuff of dreams for many young women, and even those who were older than him. He was gallant, chivalrous, and held himself with such an air of confidence that made it hard to resist turning one's eye in his direction. He was kind. He was loyal. And most of all…

He was hereby stripped of all that he knew.

The news came as a shock to him, but a disappointment to many others. Nobles who had once been his father's allies, who had raised him since he was a child, had such high hopes for him, now wanted him dead, or at the feet of the Emperor to be judged for his crimes of betrayal and treason. But did he regret it?

Not particularly.

He made it very clear that he disagreed with Edelgard's extreme views of the church. They fought almost every moment that they were in the same room together, and every night before bed, he would hang his head and sigh deeply, drinking in her words with a disbelief that made it impossible to be surprised by anything anymore.

What had surprised him, however, was the day he had been approached by the teacher of a rival house, to be recruited into her class. At first he had rejected, for he knew that to go against the crown would be foolish. But still she persisted, and his stubbornness in his refusal of her efforts began to show cracks. In the end, he had joined the Blue Lion house, who had made it clear that peace for all of Fodlan could not come by waging a bloody campaign against the church and those who supported it.

But the real reason he had joined? Well, it wasn't quite so simple as being fed up with Edelgard and her preaching mass genocide. No, it was something far deeper. More complex. Something he had yet to experience, but knew all too well he was the captive of the day he had watched as the woman was thrown off a cliff, with no word of her well-being for five long years.

Love.

Yes, he was in love with the professor of his house. It wasn't as disturbing a thought as others had made it seem. She was so calm during battle, but her body moved with such a ferocity that made watching her an addiction he could not say he cared to be cured of. Her voice, what was once a dull monotone, had barked orders with such… _fire_, such intensity that he swore he would burn alive with the force of her glare during practice drills.

And her eyes..._her eyes_! Such dull, lifeless blue eyes stared at him with a raging inferno within that he could liken it to the fires of hell that he would gladly burn in, if it meant her staring at him like that longer.

He was in love with a woman who had blossomed into such a vibrant flower of beauty, who could bring all the force of a hurricane across a battlefield all on her own. And yet, when she looked at her students, there was a tenderness there that made his heart skip a beat, and turn him from a confident man, to a babbling fool in mere seconds. He could never get whatever was on his mind out clearly when he had her attention. He never could voice his thoughts when her piercing eyes saw right through him.

And her voice...when it filled his ears with such sweet song, he could close his eyes and listen to her voice forever and know true peace.

Yes, he was in love with his professor. A woman he would follow to the ends of the earth and beyond. Should she order him to take on the armies of heaven and hell, he would do so. Should she ever ask him to stay by her side, be it as a lover or advisor, he would do so.

All for her, and her radiant smile.

And so, as he stabbed forth with his lance, empowered by such feelings, he knew that he would do all that he could to make her dream, a world without war and discrimination, a reality.

For Byleth. For Fodlan.

For Love.


	2. The Fate Of A One-Eyed Demon

He was Dimitri Alexandre Blaidydd. But to his enemies, he was the One-Eyed Demon.

There was no mercy on the battlefield, he knew that. There was no room for remorse, or regret. It was kill or be killed, and he made sure that before he died, he would take as many as he could with him until the inevitable.

But it was not always this way.

As he took a shaky breath - a stab wound to the ribs, surely fatal - he remembered times when things were much simpler. More peaceful. Times when he could smile as easily as the sun rose each and every day.

He remembered Edelgard, the small, closed off girl who hardly spoke a word sometimes, and refused to be anywhere for very long. He remembered their friendship blossoming one fateful afternoon, and all the time they spent together afterwards. He remembered the dagger he gave her, and the promise that went with it.

He remembered Sylvain and Felix, friends from childhood who he had shared everything with.

Ingrid, who was something like a mother hen to the three rambunctious boys, but often got dragged into their games.

He remembered Dedue, the Duscur boy who had pledged his undying loyalty to him after the Tragedy. A constant ally and steward. An immovable wall against the tide of adversity.

But now, Dedue was dead.

Felix and Sylvain had joined him in his campaign against Edelgard and he had led them into a slaughter.

Ingrid, who had lost everything dear to her even before this bloody war, had been reduced to tears at the sight of Dimitri after five long years apart, and refused to take part in this battle.

Dimitri laughed softly as more spears pierced his armor - his lungs, spleen, and even his heart.

So, this was to be his fate.

The voices, loudly screaming for his blood, suddenly ceased. His vision blurred and slowly faded. And he fell to his knees, hacking feebly for breath that would not come.

All the while he saw the woman in the red battle armor standing over him. Axe in hand, she sighed at him pitifully. "Farewell, King of Delusion." She spoke softly, almost sadly.

And he smiled. Yes...perhaps so.


	3. Good To See You Too

With hands grasped around his neck, Claude von Riegan could do nothing but smile.

The hands were gentle, despie how the situation looked and sounded, and a soft giggle flooded his ears. Who knew that, in five years time, words he had told the woman above him in jest would actually come true?

Pink hair pooled around their faces on the ground, and their faces were only inches apart, but he could sense no malice in Hilda's stance, and pink eyes stared into his own green eyes, shining with mirth. "So, how will you get yourself out of this, o scheming leader of the Alliance?" Hilda teased, her lips curling up in a smile. Her breath smelled faintly of fruits - she must have just eaten recently.

And soon he found his eyes drawn to her lips. Lightly painted, he noticed, but he could still feel himself being drawn to them all the same. He needed to come up with a plan to get out of this situation before Hilda had any more bright ideas. Even now, he could feel her shifting slightly, straddling his hips and planting herself firmly in his lap.

Was he concerned? Not really.

Hilda had always been a very beautiful girl. He would be lying if he denied having even the slightest moment when he wanted to be in her presence and have but a moment of her time. But he had always found himself with little time for personal relationships that were not necessary.

"Well?" Hilda drew their faces closer only the slightest bit, and without any time to form even the slightest plan of escape, Claude had to concede this round to the pink haired woman.

He kissed her. But it was not a soft, chaste kiss that left more to be desired. It was a somewhat greedy, almost hungry kiss. Five years apart would do that to you, Claude told himself, as his eyes fluttered shut. He felt Hilda's hands leave his throat and tangle themselves in his hair. An involuntary grunt escaped him - Hilda had put all her weight on him now, and he found his arms wrapping around her slim body in response.

The couple didn't know how long they had lay there in the other's embrace, but it was only when a soft voice sounded from nearby that they looked up. Byleth, arms crossed over her chest, stared ever silently over the two of them with several others.

"Having fun?" Byleth asked, one eyebrow curiously raised.

"You could say that," Claude laughed, though he made no move to get up. Hilda did likewise, choosing to lay there instead. He couldn't move even if he wanted to in this situation. Hilda could be quite stubborn when she didn't want to do anything, after all. "Did you need anything?"

"Strategy meeting is in an hour. I was hoping to talk to you for a bit, but you weren't in your room. And here I find you...in the middle of the dining hall." Byleth shook her head and sighed heavily. At this, Hilda giggled and blushed faintly. That had been her fault. "If you're going to be doing things like this, you could at least wait until you're somewhere in private."

"Duly noted! It will never happen again!" Claude nodded and gave a one-armed salute.

"So to it that it doesn't." With a curt nod, Byleth walked off, and Claude frowned at Hilda, who looked away to hide her embarrassment.

"Don't think we aren't done here!" Claude stated, effectively tipping the scales in his favor. He sat up, gripping Hilda by the wrist and grinning at her. "We have an hour. Let's...make it count."

"Huh?" Hilda asked dumbly as she was dragged off. "Claude? Hey, Claude?! What do you mean!"

The sound of boyish laughter echoed down the halls as Byleth rubbed her temples. Children...


	4. Changes

Sylvain Jose Gautier was many things. He was a hero, for one thing. The sole surviving heir to House Gautier, and the wielder of the Lance of Ruin. He was a Wyvern Lord who knew no equal in aerial combat, and his mere presence on the battlefield sent waves of fear through his enemies.

Nah, he was just kidding,

Well, for that last line, however. He was a Wyvern Lord, and his prowess in aerial combat was pretty amazing. NOt that he would say so himself, he was merely spouting things that other people had said about him. Even Ingrid, his grounded counterpart even complimented him that the way he fought had a sort of grace to it.

Yes, even Ingrid gave him praise. And that, to him, meant more than any words from any female that he had ever courted. And he realized how much of an ass that made him. Did he care? Yes, to some degree. It wasn't as though he had wanted to hurt those women. Even now, five years after Edelgard's proclamation of war against the Church of Seiros, he found himself coming face to face with the women he had dated, and the effects of his words.

Some had found a nice, modest future for themselves and gotten married. Some even had children in his time away from them. But others...he felt his heart breaking to see them now. Some were either dead, or living lives wishing that he had never met him. On very few occasions some had even gotten close enough to stab him - only to be thwarted by his Professor or some of his friends.

Why was he thinking this now, you may ask? Because one such friend, someone he held nearer to his heart than anyone else, had paid a price meant for him.

The wound was rather deep, but not fatal. However, Sylvain had rushed her to the nearest infirmary as if her very life depended on it. Soft blonde hair swayed in the breeze as Sylvain, blinded by tears and anger, called for anyone to help him.

He barely registered when Mercedes stopped him and asked what was wrong. He didn't even see her hands fly to her mouth at the sight of the dagger wound. Ingrid merely grunted in pain and begged Sylvain to put her down. He only clutched her tighter to him and cursed under his breath.

He knew he was being stupid. He knew that he was overreacting. He knew that he had no reason to fear for Ingrid's life and that yes, he should put her down. But never in his life did he ever realize just how much Ingrid had meant to him until now. How much he needed her.

Apology after apology spilled from Sylvain's lips even after Ingrid was healed and bandaged up. He stayed by her side, did even menial tasks like helping her to her feet so she could use the restroom, and lay her back in her bed. He was ever present in her life after that, and no other woman caught his attention. Not even Hilda, who had greeted him with her usual grin. He merely walked past her on his way to fulfil another chore that Ingrid needed doing.

It was strange, Sylvain mused, stopping on his way from the market. In most of his relationships with...any female ever, he had never gone out of his way for them like this. Except for Hilda, who had pretty much used him that one time, but he didn't really count that. They were just close friends now - and he felt bad for ignoring her like that. But now that he had a minute to think things through and clear his mind, he wondered just what it was that made him do this stuff for Ingrid.

She would complain and say she was more than capable enough of doing things herself, but he always insisted that she let him do it. When she got tired, he would make sure her pillows were niced and fluffed just the way she liked them, he would stay by her side even after she fell asleep, even falling asleep on her lap if he was really tired. He fretted over her like she were a child, and even scolded her for stretching herself to the point of ripping out her stitches. Again. For the 12th time.

And yet, he never did any of that for any kind of reward, or simply because she was his friend.

When he returned to Ingrid's side, Sylvain posed the question. Straightforward, to the point, and without any sort of expectation of acceptance. "Ingrid, I know this is going to sound silly, and I know what you're going to say. You're going to call me silly, get mad and yell at me for thinking you're like all of the other girls that I went out with before. You're going to think I expect you to fall all over me because I have a Crest. But I'm not thinking any of that. Honestly, I don't even know what I'm thinking at all for asking something like this but…would you like to have tea with me sometime? And possibly...go have dinner in town?"

Sylvain half expected Ingrid to glower at him and verbally put him through a grinder for even considering it. He knew her past, and how shaken up she was after losing Glenn. He knew that she had closed off her heart and threw herself into her training as a knight as a way of escape, but honestly, it just made him wish for the times when they were kids. When they didn't have very many expectations except to do what kids would do and have fun.

When she would smile so brightly each and every day that it would light up any room that she was in and make Sylvain even more resolved to protect that smile.

"I just...I want to see you smile again. I want to hear you laugh, and see you enjoy yourself. IT's like...after Glenn died, so did that little girl I always knew. The girl who would get dragged along when Dimitri, Felix and I would play soldier. The girl who could skip stones on a lake better than three rambunctious boys and brag about it for days on end. The girl who could hide in the smallest places, who could run faster than anyone I knew and keep pace with even Felix." Sylvain rambled on, smiling softly all the while. He took note of the surprised look on Ingrid's face, which vanished soon, only to be replaced by a sad smile of her own.

"You do know that I'm not like those girls right? I'm not going to fall head over heels for you from day one, and I don't believe any of your pretty little words." Ingrid said. "And I can't be that girl again, Sylvain. Try as I might, but I can't bring her back."

"I know." Sylvain nodded. "I-"

"And you do know what my father would think, right? He trusts you, Sylvain, but not a whole lot after hearing about the things you've done here, and with all those girls." Ingrid prodded Sylvain in the chest. He was sweating now, and chuckling nervously. "So if you really intend to change your ways and stop all of that...yes, I would like to have dinner with you."

"Wait, what." Sylvain stated dumbly.

"You heard me. I'll go to dinner with you. But only after you show me that you've changed." Ingrid reiterated. "I...don't know if I can ever be the girl that you remember. Honestly that feels like a lifetime ago. I've grown up, Syl. And so have you."

"I'll change. I'll do whatever it takes. Just give me this chance, and I know you won't regret it." Sylvain nodded resolutely. Ingrid rolled her eyes, mumbling something under her breath, but Sylvain didn't catch what it was. It wasn't until she threw her pillow at him and shouted for him to leave that he caught on. He rushed to find Mercedes, or Dorothea - whoever was closer at the time.

Xxx

No one could ever have guessed that the two childhood friends would ever announce their engagement. Felix was shocked at first, but even a gruff man like him could smile, even if a little bit. He looked over to Dimitri, whose arms were crossed over his chest. The blonde King stared at his two friends for a long moment in silence before embracing them. His once cold exterior melting into that familiar, boyish grin that they all remembered.

As Felix was drawn into the hug as well, the four friends laughed together, arms around each other's shoulders as the realities of the world melted away.

In his mind's eye, Sylvain could see them all clearly:

Short, grumpy Felix smiling only for his three closest friends a smile that showed his true heart.

Dimitri, studious and awkward, opened his heart to his friends, and displayed untold amounts of love and joy.

Little Ingrid, prim and proper, laughed her girlish laughter and cast aside her father's wishes for a single moment of selfish glee.

And Sylvain, the oldest of the three, embraced them all so lovingly, like an older brother, and knew that for once in his life, his hollow, empty heart was finally full.

And there was nothing, not even a power hungry monarch, that could take this moment from them.


End file.
